


what the floor's for

by fishyspots



Series: prompts [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Is it post-canon? Is it at a nebulous point in canon? who's to say, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots
Summary: “Sorry. I’m not very good at this.”“It sometimes helps if you actually lift your feet off the ground.” David’s voice is carefully neutral.Or, Patrick asks David to dance.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822303
Comments: 18
Kudos: 157





	what the floor's for

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of a fair few fills i've done for the soft prompt meme, which was created by aboldclaim on tumblr. a bunch of my fills are already up there (i'm fishyspots there too), but they'll be meandering over here once a day until i'm caught up. 
> 
> title is from "it's time to dance" from the prom, a musical i'd highly recommend.

“Toes, toes, toes!”

Patrick steps back, wincing. He feels clumsy and inept, staring at his feet like this. Out of control. It’s hard to believe that David hasn’t stepped on his feet even once, not even as a form of revenge. Patrick thinks David probably deserves to dole out a few revenge stomps.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“It sometimes helps if you actually lift your feet off the ground.” David’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Excellent feedback, love the support.” Patrick sees his parents over David’s shoulder. They’re dancing, too, but they look comfortable in a way Patrick has never felt while doing this. He envies them.

Patrick lets his face be tilted up by David’s hand under his chin, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he meets David’s eyes.

“We can stop, you know,” David says. His left hand is clasped tightly in Patrick’s, and his right is curled around a drink that’s pressed against Patrick’s lower back. Drops of condensation are dampening Patrick’s shirt.

Patrick squeezes David’s fingers in his own. “I don’t think that’s what I said,” he murmurs.

“Mm hm.”

Patrick uses the silence that falls between them to listen to the song piping through the speakers. It’s slow and sweet, with saccharine lyrics about a forever kind of love. Twangy, too--Patrick’s cousin has always been partial to country music, so of course the genre is making an appearance at her wedding.

David yelps when Patrick steps on his foot again.

“I really am trying not to.” Patrick hates this.

David traces a finger along the shell of Patrick’s ear slowly. His ears must be red; David only ever does that when his embarrassment is visible.

“Seriously,” David says quietly. “We can stop. It’s not a big deal. Clearly, you’re not comfortable.”

A familiar surge of protectiveness swells in Patrick’s chest, the same way it did early on, when David toned himself down or let go of his shoulders when they were around Patrick’s family. It comes around less and less the more Patrick’s two worlds merge, but it still pops up on rare occasions.

“David,” Patrick says. “Is that why you didn’t want to dance? You don’t want to do this here?”

“Who says I didn’t want to dance?”

“When I asked, you said you wanted to get cake instead.”

“True,” David concedes. “But also, objectively the right decision. That cake looks very good. Lemon, Patrick.”

“You’ve asked me if I want to stop maybe a hundred times.”

“Dramatic. An overstatement. I believe I asked twice.”

“You’re still holding your drink.”

David presses his lips together.

“Okay,” he says lowly. He pulls Patrick closer, his drink cool against Patrick’s back. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Patrick presses his forehead to the place he’s come to think of as his spot, low on David’s neck. There, against David’s warmth, he feels like he fits. He’s not out of step. He loves the dueling sensations he finds when he rubs his cheek against David’s own, both the scratch of David’s stubble and the smoothness of David’s skin.

“Then what is it?” he asks. He kind of doesn’t want to hear the answer.

David leans his own cheek against the top of Patrick’s head, and Patrick is soothed despite himself.

“I don’t know if you know this,” David says. Patrick can feel the rumble of David’s voice where his ear is pressed against David’s skin. “But you are not the most graceful person.”

The tension gathering in Patrick’s shoulders loosens.

“That’s all?”

David nods. “That’s all. My feet can’t take much more of this.”

Patrick lifts his head from David’s neck and looks into David’s eyes. His heart is spilling out of his pores; he’s leaking all over the dance floor. They’re going to have to mop him up so that people don’t slip.

“David?”

“Mm hm?”

“I’m going to dance with you for at least two more songs.”

David’s trying not to smile. He’s so bad at it.

“But the cake.”

Patrick nods seriously. “Maybe three.”

“But my toes.”

“And if they keep playing slow songs?” Patrick can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to David’s cheek. “Maybe four.”

“I suppose I’ll have to suffer through.”

“Thoughts on being dipped?”

“Depends on how confident you feel in your abilities. If you drop me, I’m out of here,” David warns.

Patrick does it anyway. He likes his chances.


End file.
